


Freely, of Your Own Will

by ninhursag



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Child Abuse, Demon Deals, Demon Sex, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jesse Manes is literally the devil, M/M, Revenge, Self-Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:54:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23628784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninhursag/pseuds/ninhursag
Summary: Desperate and alone, Alex Manes comes to a cross roads to make a deal with a demon. His soul for the chance to finally defeat his father.But this demon doesn't kiss and run.**"Hello, Alexander Manes. A whole bloodline of hunters in your veins and you're offering yourself up as a snack for the likes of me?" The voice came from behind, low and easy, spreading over him like something from a cowboy movie.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 40
Kudos: 259
Collections: Time After Time: A Roswell New Mexico Alternate Era AU Event





	Freely, of Your Own Will

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little bit of a WIP amnesty because it's not as plotty as it should be, but all the same I hope you find it satisfying.
> 
> Most of this was posted on Tumblr but here you have it cleaned up and pretty for you for the Roswell au event!
> 
> Note that I only watched the first four seasons of spn so I do my own thing with the mythology.

Alex Manes was eighteen, bare headed and shivering in the dark in a thin t-shirt. There was a ring of bruises around his throat like a necklace when he came to the crossroads.

It was getting dark and dusty, desert breeze turning cold. He hugged himself hard, even though it hurt.

This was the place, the book had said so. This was the place to come and make a deal.

He took in a shallow, hurting breath, the pain in his throat reminding him why he had to be here.

"Hello, Alexander Manes. A whole bloodline of hunters in your veins and you're offering yourself up as a snack for the likes of me?" The voice came from behind, low and easy, spreading over him like something from a cowboy movie.

Alex blinked. Turned. Cowboy was right, the man behind him had it, from his silver belt buckle gleaming in the dark to his black Stetson, perched on his curly hair. His teeth gleamed white. 

"I'm here to make a deal," Alex said and his voice was painfully soft, bruised as his throat.

"You want your daddy's head on a platter?" The cowboy, the man, the, whatever he was, crooned, honey smooth. "It'll only cost your soul. You want to pay to play?"

Alex shrugged. "Worth it," he said. And then, "but I don't want it on a platter. I want to beat him. I want it to be me."

The man shrugged with a kind of liquid insouciance, "I mean, take it from me, it's not, but it can be arranged."

"It's not what?" Alex demanded.

The hint of a smile again, this time a real one, ancient and so, so tired. "Worth it. It's really not, sweetheart."

"It is to me," Alex said. His voice cracked again and he swallowed, wincing at the motion. "Come on, you're here to make the deal right?" It's not like a demon was allowed to say no. Was it?

There was another blink, something like regret passing with it. The man lifted up the brim of his Stetson, like he was paying respects. And then. Then his shone, a dull red glow, coals in a sparking fire.

Alex almost took a step back but he stood his ground, steady on his feet, staring down hellfire, or whatever it was.

"Deal," the man whispered. And before Alex could move, he leaned forward, close and heavy, like he was going to--

He kissed Alex then and there, hot on the mouth, a dream of a kiss, sweet and poisoned, tongue like honey, like a trap. It didn't bruise, that kiss, it lingered.

It was the gentlest that Alex had been touched since his mother left, there in the cold dark, a demon's blazing forehead pressed against his. The faint smell of dust and fire layered with sweat, like they were both still alive. Mouth and hands, careful of his bruises.

Alex sighed and closed his eyes and let his lips part. Let himself rest, his first kiss still lingering. Just for a second, because he wasn't cold anymore and suddenly nothing hurt.

"My name is Michael Guerin," the demon whispered. "And you and I are gonna make one hell of a team, Alex."

**

Story was, if you made the crossroads deal, you got ten years, ten good years to enjoy the fruits of it, before the hellhounds came for you. Before the demon that kissed you and marked you showed up at your door, grinning with all their teeth and took what you'd promised.

Thing was, Alex's demon never actually left. Instead, Michael Guerin kissed him again, after that first claiming kiss. Kissed him carefully, gentle palms brushing skin and a mouth that tasted only faintly of sulfur. It felt soft, the tether claiming Alex's soul. It was supposed to burn, it was supposed to hurt, but instead it just warmed him to the icy core of himself and he finally stopped shivering.

It felt strong, his bruises healed and his skin clean.

Michael drove him away in Alex's own shitty truck. Not to the careful suburban home that his father owned and was the family gathering point when they weren’t hunting. To a motel off the highway where you could pay in cash and they wouldn't check your ID.

Michael took him to a rickety motel bed with a mattress that was too soft and lumpy and a room that already smelled faintly of sex and strongly of cigarettes. He put his cowboy hat on the nightstand, took off his boots one by one, and then kissed Alex like that was the only thing he’d come here to do.

Alex shook while he was kissed, shook under the gentle care of it. Shook until he grit his teeth to make himself stop, pushed up on the balls of his toes, and kissed back, planning to go harder, to put his teeth and nails into it.

But Michael had soft, soft curls, whiskey gold, mellow eyes. He was a demon. He smelled like fire and rivers and charcoal burning. 

He smiled with his teeth and let Alex shove at him, went down so easily on that ugly, lumpy bed. Anything but ugly, that long, rangy body. Thighs spreading, arms open, like a wet dream out of some porntube clip Alex watched through a VPN. 

Alex dove down after him, all knees and elbows and bare shining skin. All his bruises and cuts and burns healed down to nothing but pink and brown skin. Michael's long arms wrapped around him.

"I don't understand," Alex muttered into Michael's skin, into the soft fabric that covered his shoulder. "I made the deal. Why are you still here?"

"You made a deal to put your daddy's head on a platter," Michael said, with a careful, slow smile. "I'm going to help you do it."

"How?" Alex whispered, head shaking, lips staying parted. "With, like, sex?" His voice was low, too shaky to be incredulous. But not scared, not really. Not of that smile, the one that was sex and promise and everything he’d have jerked off to and never expected to take. 

"Sex is how it's done." Michael's eyes were gold and then, then, they were red. Sullen embers. He licked his lips. It should have made Alex's blood chill, it should have made him remember every warning he'd ever gotten, every fear of the dark. But he was so warm inside now and Michael's skin felt so soft. "I'm going to give you so much power, sweetheart."

That should have maybe scared him. “I wish he could see me,” he said instead, “getting it from a demon.”

“Mmmm…” Michael murmured, into his ear. “So I can have you? You come willing?”

Alex’s laugh was so hopeful, disbelieving. “Um. Yeah. And you’d better make me come.”

Michael’s eyes went wide and bright, all gold again. He laughed, outright, not mean at all. Ducked his head. Giggled really, snickering into Alex’s shoulder. “Pinkie swear, Alex.”

Then he kissed him again and the laughter faded. 

It didn't hurt, losing his virginity to a demon, knees up and grinning, more relaxed than he'd ever been. Burned for a moment, a brand on his skin and that was it.

It felt like being alive, full on, for the first time he could remember.

Later, in the mirror under cheap buzzing lights, Alex saw the mark for the first time. It shimmered on his chest, beautiful, the shape of Michael's hand emblazoned on his skin.

When he touched it with his fingertips it sang.  
**

Michael didn’t go away, and Alex didn’t go back home. They hit the road, ditching the truck Alex had worked two summers to pay for but that his dad still held title to and picking up an old beater at a junkyard Michael seemed to know about.

They drove through the open roads and Alex rolled the windows down and laughed at the feeling of breeze in his hair and the freedom to put his feet up on the dash. 

They stopped at a dive motel off the state road that was marked scenic for reasons Alex didn't get. The scenic part was inside, on a bed that vibrated if you put coins in.

Michael grinned, like a human boy, all pleased under his nest of curls and cowboy hat. "Wanna go for a ride?" He crooned and Alex rolled his eyes and kissed him.

He didn't taste like sulphur anymore. He rode Alex's dick like a demon would though, relentless and heavy lidded, licking those plush lips of his.

After, he said, "there's a ghost hanging around the swimming pool. Has it in for runaways and hookers. I thought we'd take it out."

And Alex, still naked and panting, dick gone soft and soaked in his own come, stared stupidly and said, "what?"

"Ghost," Michael repeated, like he was slow, not fucked stupid. "You're still a hunter, aren't you?"

"You're still a demon, aren't you?" Alex said back, still confused and sticky.

Michael threw a wash cloth at him, without using his hands, floating on demon power. He pulled on his jeans, sliding them up over that golden ass that was still wet from Alex's cock and took a shotgun out of Alex's bag, the one loaded with salt shells.

"I'm your demon," Michael said. "You wanna hunt, we're gonna hunt." He didn't bother to finish buttoning his shirt while Alex got dressed.

He did put his black hat on, perfectly cocked. Alex couldn't help but laugh even when his eyes blazed red. He grabbed his own gun and they went out.

They laid the ghost to rest easy, a classic salt and burn once they'd found the bones that bound out to the earth and reduced them to ash. It wasn't until much later that evening, Alex realized that he had grabbed his gun with his mind, not his hands.

That he'd taken a shot with his brain, not his fingers.

There was power humming in him now, like there'd never been. Warm and emanating from the mark on his chest.

He thought of his father, strong hands wrapped around Alex's neck, squeezing. Hard, focused face.

He could peel those fingers off with his mind now. And break them one by one.

**

"Guerin," Mimi DeLuca spat, shotgun out as soon as she spotted the demon. And then, "Christo," sharp like a weapon.

Michael just smirked, unflinching, eyes golden in the fading evening glow and not demon red. "Not gonna work on me just now, ma'am," he said and tipped his hat.

It was Mimi who flinched, staring behind him, as if she could see who was hiding in the shadows. "You've got yourself a witch," she said, softly, eyes narrowing as she looked for the human soul that had bound itself to a demon. 

Michael held out his open hands, one solid and smooth and one gnarled and twisted, "I surely do, but here's the thing, it's your fault. You and yours left him nowhere else to go but to the likes of me." 

"My fault?" she demanded, back up, gun still held tight in a white knuckle grip. "Who is it?"

Not.

It couldn't be, but it was. Handsome, quiet Alex, Jesse's youngest, strode out of the fading sun and said, "wait, what do you mean witch? What does that have to do with anything?"

Guerin turned back to look at him with a little smile and shrug while Mimi's blood froze in her veins.

Alex Manes, young and confused, dark hair messy and half over one eye, fabric of his shirt so worn and thin you could almost see the glow of the handprint under it. A witch's mark, sunk into human skin.

"You damned him," Mimi whispered, voice gone thin with grief. "He's just a boy."

"I did it myself, I came to him, so. Just don't," Alex said, frowning, still looking back at Guerin. "And what do you mean witch?"

Michael Guerin shook his head, light and easy and then turned his stare back at Mimi. "How about you save him, then, Hunter?" 

Mimi stared back. 

"Anyway. Going to invite us in?" Guerin said, his smirk painted on and his eyes still human colored.

**

Of course Alex didn't let it go. He turned and glared at Michael the moment they were alone. "Talk. What do you mean witch? My dad said Mimi and Maria were, but that's not what you mean."

"The DeLuca women have the sight, but that doesn't make them witches," Michael said, with a smirk and a raise of his eyebrows that was all tease.

Alex frowned at him, a line wrinkling on his forehead, "so, what does?"

Michael's eyebrow lift turned curious. "Why don't you tell me?" he murmured. Then very gently let his fingers brush against the fabric of Alex's shirt, right over his heart. Where the mark of Michael's hand glowed on human skin.

Alex swallowed. "Are you saying…"

Michael leaned in closer, so that their foreheads were almost pressing together. So that they could taste each other's breath. "You took a demon into your body, Alex. What do you think a witch is?"

Alex's lips parted and his eyes were more black than brown, swallowed by pupil. He didn't back away. "You said, it would make me stronger."

Michael nodded, staying just where he was, not quite touching, waiting for the invitation. "It makes us both stronger. You borrow my powers, I borrow your… call it a soul."

"And you can walk through DeLuca's wards because of that, because you're borrowing from me," Alex whispered. "You could hurt them."

Michael's throat moved when he swallowed. "I'm a demon, Alex. Your demon, but still a demon."

Alex didn't move, didn't move, heels steady in the ground, knees locked, eyes focused. He didn't move for a long moment. But when he did it was quick and certain, hands coming up to grip Michael by the back of his neck and holding him.

Pulling him in, dragging him in, with cool human hands. Lips to lips, breath to breath.

The kiss was gentle, only the clutch of hands was hard. 

"I'm a demon," Michael repeated, but his voice was so soft. 

"You could hurt them, but you won't," Alex was so steady, certain. A statement of fact. 

Michael rolled his eyes at him, and shook his head. "That's a dangerous idea you have," he said, but lightly. "I've hurt a lot of better people."

Alex smiled at him. "I'm your-- you're my demon, I won't let anyone use your powers to hurt people. And you know that."

Michael just stopped, mid smirk. Breathed out. "Alex," he said, and just that.

"That's how it works, this witch thing," Alex said, not a question. Then he leaned in hard and swift and kissed him again.

**

They killed a wendigo, burned out a nest of vampires and made peace with a coyote. And ghosts, dozens of ghosts, before Alex felt ready to finish off his bargain.

It was harder than any ghost, hunting down a Manes man that knew you were coming for him, but Alex had a demon at his back. Strong and tall and steady. A demon mark, a witch's mark shimmering on his skin.

Jesse's pale eyes were open and wouldn't stay closed.

They buried what was left of him out on the edge of the rez, where jurisdiction between the tribe and the feds got dicey. Under a rock, blood to feed the desert, bones to burn to ash and charcoal so that no one could resurrect him, so that nothing could ever rise.

He hadn't begged when Alex looked him in the eye, just stared him down like an ice pick and said, "you're going to hell, son. A lot of truly decent folks will be harmed without me to protect them."

Alex laughed. "I might be headed to hell, but you can go ahead and keep my seat warm for me."

And he used Michael's powers to snap his father's neck without touching him.

Michael just watched it happen, worldless witness to Alex's revenge.

He kissed him after, over a still shiny belt buckle scar on his shoulder that would never heal. Over the soft places on his throat that had once been bruised.

**

"Tell me who you are," Alex begged after, when Michael still didn't leave. "I want to know about you."

"I had a sister who was pretty as a goddess and proud as a queen." Michael smiled faintly, eyes bright under the rim of his stupid hat, as if it at an old, dusty memory. "She didn't tell us that the man she married hurt her. She was too proud for that. But one day, at a crossroad, she met a woman who offered her power and revenge."

The air caught in Alex's throat. "And you? How did you come into it?"

Michael's eyes half closed, but he didn't look sad or angry, just relieved. "I found out about nine years later--almost too late. But I was given the opportunity to make it right and that's all I could have asked for."

Alex swallowed hard, bile in his throat. Michael wasn't even angry. He hadn't-- it wasn't right. "What, by taking her place?" 

"Yup." Michael's smile changed from dreamy, young to something sharp. A thing with teeth. He reached out his hands, the ones that felt like brands on Alex's skin. "But don't look so sad and mad, Alex, they knock all those kinds of urges out of you before they let you take shore leave from hell. I wouldn't do it again."

Alex laughed, painful and sour. "You are a miserable liar."

Michael just shrugged. "Whelp. Enough about me. Let's talk ghosts."

"Don't," Alex whispered. "Don't."

"Alex, sweetheart. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't do it again. I don't have a soul to bargain with anymore. I'm already theirs."

And all Alex could think was that wasn't true. It couldn't be.

**

Hunting on his own was how he found her. The ghost was a woman, who sneered at the salt in his shotgun. Disrupted and reconfigured, behind him. A woman, dressed in an old fashioned silver gown with a line of buttons on it and a concentrated look on her face. 

Then she looked at him, her green flecked eyes almost human. Intelligent. "You can't get rid of me that easy, hunter. What I'm hanging around for isn't of the Earth any more."

"You're a ghost," Alex hissed. "I put ghosts to rest."

She shrugged and the motion, again, it looked almost human, almost solid. She took a step closer and he was almost surprised to feel the electrostatic wrongness in the air. "Yeah. And I'll rest when my brother is free. And you're going to help me free him."

And Alex's breath stuttered in his chest, and looked again, seeing her. "Isobel?" He asked. "You're Michael's sister."

She sneered. "Yes. My brother was real fucking genius for an idiot if he thought I was just going to die and leave him to it. I'm here til I get him back."

Alex stared. "Your brother-- Michael's a demon."

The grief in her face was agonizing, the most ghost like thing about her. No one human could hold that much pain without crumbling under it. "You think I don't know that? Because of me, it's because of me." 

But she looked at him, eyes the same brown as Guerin's, just for a moment. "He made sure I could never get anywhere near hell when he made his deal. He just didn't realize I have no intention of heaven either."

**

When he lost Michael through a hell portal not a few years after, it was Mimi he went to about it.

"Guerin ain't worth this, Alex," Mimi told him, in a tired voice. "If you let it be, some other idiot will summon him down before long."

He stared at her like she'd suggested evil of all sorts.

Mimi sighed, really kindly, leaning over the bar, and said, "He's a demon, honey. It's for the best if he's not attached to your soul anymore."

And Alex could do nothing but just glare her down, "how is that, does it get me out of my deal? I'm down to three years remember. Or is it just that someone else collects?"

Mimi's eyes closed and she shook her head. "We're working on that. We have Guerin's notes."

Alex's glare narrowed. His hands twisted in his lap. "Yeah, the notes from when he was trying to save his sister, trying to save me. But I just leave him where he is, right? He ain't worth it. Right?"

"He's a demon," Mimi said, "his experience of hell isn't like yours would be."

Alex gave a sharp shake of denial. "You don't know that. He wasn't exactly popular with the rest of them once he started helping me."

She looked at him again, and her mouth and hands twisted out a surrender. No one could outstubborn Alex Manes. "So then what's your plan?"

He let his hands open. "Tradition is, you can go double or nothing on the soul game. I'm going to challenge the devil to a game."

"A game of what? You're smart and good, but you're not a professional poker player, never mind the devil."

"I'm not playing poker," Alex said, easily. He smiled. "And Mimi. He's worth every fucking thing. Don't you dare say otherwise."

**

The devil wore the face of Jesse Manes, when he sat at the table across from Alex. Of course he did. He was smiling around the corner of his eyes, and steely, full of that certainty of his place in the world.

"When you lose, I'll put you both in a room and let out the first one who tortures the other. The one who doesn't-- that one stays forever."

There was a woman's laughter in the background. "They'll end up fighting each other. Trying to make the other one pick up the tools." 

The devil just kept smiling. "Maybe," he said. "So, son, what is your game?"

Alex stared him down, taking careful deliberate breaths. Trying not to let the images invade his mind because that wouldn't save anyone. "It's funny, you chose that form and body. Because my father can play poker like a pro. But guitar? He can't carry a rhythm worth a damn." 

He took out his own, the one that had been his mother's once, battered and mellow and made for the blues.

Jesse Manes' face did something complicated and then he shrugged. "Fair enough, son. Now let's bring out the stakes."

He looked at the demon behind him, who smiled and snapped her fingers. 

Then Guerin was there, blinking at them like someone had interrupted his nap. His eyes though, red rimmed and tired, under the gold. He didn't necessarily look like he'd been tortured, but then he didn't look like he hadn't either.

Another snap and his left hand was mancled to the table. He sighed noisily and looked at Alex. "Sweetheart," he said. "You are an idiot."

Alex hummed and smiled and tuned his guitar. "I know. Intimately."

"I'm a demon, Alex," Michael continued, unsmiling. His eyes turned red then, smoldering. "If you win, that's what you get. A monster. I don't even love you."

Jesse's lips thinned as he looked Michael over and Alex managed not to flinch from that.

"For a demon, you sure are a miserable liar," Alex said, forcing himself to meet Michael's burning red eyes instead. Only then did he look back into his father, not father's face. "So. Let's get started."

**  
“Double or nothing,” Alex said, teeth bared, ignoring Michael now that it was back to business.

“You made the deal with him to kill me, son, we already get your soul,” the demon said brightly. “You’re going to have to do better.”

“In three years. Three years to fuck you over and I like my chances. If I lose you get me now,” Alex said. 

Jesse had always had that particular gleam in his eyes when he had plans to help correct his sons. Correct, he'd called it. This one replicated that look perfectly. "How about you win, he goes, you stay?"

Michael hummed from his spot handcuffed to the table between them. "Bad deal," he muttered. 

Jesse's eyes narrowed while Michael met his eyes. Unflinching, his faint challenging smile on his mouth, the one Alex knew was just waiting to get slapped off. "It is a bad deal," Jesse agreed. "You can pick your own soul instead. Intact and unclaimed by us."

"Better," Michael said agreeably, "but unnecessary. Walk away, Alex, you already know what to do."

"Could you stop?" Alex said. To both of them, really. Then, to the demon. "It's not going to work. When I beat you, we both walk out of here, souls and bodies intact. Double or nothing."

"Triple." They all spun to look at the person in the doorway. She looked completely solid here, hair prefect, still wearing an old fashioned dress with every button done up.

"Isobel," Michael whispered, her name on his lips like a prayer. "No."

Isobel Evans walked in like she was a living woman and sat down at the table next to Alex, easy as anything and pushed in a chair. "Come on. Let's make this game better," she said.

Jesse's face twisted into a laugh. He looked at Michael. "So when I win, everything you worked for is undone. I like that."

Alex frowned. "How about you win before you gloat?"

Isobel laughed and Michael watched them both, eyes golden now, and huge. Fear and anger and something that wasn’t quite hope there. Alex smiled at him and put his fingers on his guitar.

And Alex played. His fingers moved, easy, easy on the frets, on the strings. His eyes on Michael Guerin’s wide eyes, lashes and curls and whiskey dreams. 

"He's a liar, you know," said Jesse, as if he had followed Alex's gaze to it's endpoint. "He's one of us, and he's making sure of your soul. You're going to burn thanks to him, and he'll laugh."

Michael wasn't laughing now, just watching Alex play.

Alex played, soft and steady, with everything he had.

"I love you, Alex," his demon said.

His demon.

Alex smiled at him, slow and sweet, and opened his mouth to sing.

**

Alex Manes crawled out of hell and onto a crossroads holding a hand that wasn't too hot to be human anymore.

His body was strong and steady, without a bruise on him. He was not alone, not ever again. He hoped.

Michael Guerin was covered in dust, from his curls to his boots and beautiful in the morning sunlight. His eyes, they were human eyes, clear and brown, gold around the edges.

The third with them, Isobel was transparent and golden, fingers brushing over her brother's face when she whispered a soft goodbye.

Alex put Michael's hand on his skin, right under his shirt, on his chest above his heart, where the demon mark used to be. It was just skin now, and "do you come willing?" Alex whispered. "Because you're free, you don't have to, you don't--"

And Michael smiled in wonder and disbelief and said, "I may be an idiot, but I'm not slow like that, Alex," and kissed him, warm and human.


End file.
